Good Grief, Not Grades!

I hate grades.  Even before my teaching career began, I had an aversion to grades.  When I applied to colleges, my first choice was Reed College in Portland, OR, a decision largely influenced by their practice of not distributing grades to students, but instead, a narrative of the strengths and weaknesses demonstrated regarding the expected learning of the course.  This type of personal feedback attracted me as a student; even though my grades had always been high (maybe because they had always been high), I felt that a single letter was not an accurate depiction of the level of my learning.

Now, on the other side of the red pen, I have even more difficulty reconciling the grading process.  For the last thirteen years, each grading cycle has produced anxiety in me.  Each time, I have wrestled with whether or not I am a fair grader, if the grade I assign to a student is the most honest evaluation, if there was any way I might be wrong and if so, how would that mistake impact the student's life.  Assigning each piece of paper a point value and then equating the amassing of points to a particular letter grade has never felt right to me.  It is simply how my grades had always been determined as a student and how I was expected to determine grades for my own students.  It was unquestioned, accepted, even made a certain type of sense, but what seemed to be missing was a real sense of what the student actually knew.

But this week, things have changed.  This week determining quarter grades has been a pleasure. In fact, it has been more than a pleasure.  The grading practice I am implementing allows me to have a conversation with my students about their growth toward the learning goals of the course.  In the course evaluations I had my students complete this week, one actually included the comment: "I would like even more opportunities to show my progress toward our course standards."  Doesn't that blow you away?  A students asking for more work  -- and not extra credit or to get more points, but to show how he is progressing as a learner in the class. 

This summer, I worked with many other teachers from my district on developing learning scales on the essential standards for our courses.  Our district school reform is being guided by Robert Marzano, both his research and his actual physical self.  I spent much of my poolside reading time annotating Marzano's books, rethinking my teaching and reorganizing my assessment practices.  Tossing out a points-based, percentage-producing grading system was liberating and exciting, but I still worried about how things would come together once grades had to be reported.

I won't go so far as to claim every student is ecstatic about this or that all of them even fully grasp how the new grading practices work, but honestly, the transition has been smoother than I ever could have imagined.  Now, the students' grades are based on what specific skills and knowledge they have demonstrated.  Points and percentages really have nothing to with it.  As each student conferenced with me, we agreed on their level of proficiency on eight standards for the quarter.  Then we determined an overall score for three categories (Reading, Writing and Academic Skills) and put those together to ascertain the level of proficiency in the course as a whole at this time. 

Basically, what I really feel this all comes down to is that I have finally found a way to evaluate my students that treats them with respect -- as if they are valuable and important regardless of what the grade they earn happens to be.  I hope as each of them sat with me and we talked about their progress, that they felt like they mattered.  Because they do.

Process Over Product

When somebody asks me what I teach, sometimes I want to say, "People."  I know the question is usually referring to the subject matter or curriculum -- "Honors English I" or Romeo & Juliet are the expected responses.  I wonder if this is because in the day-to-day world of teaching we focus heavily on product, and the product that first comes to mind is not always the student.  We create lesson plans, then collect assignments; we tally points and track test scores, ultimately determining a final grade to print on a report card.   Ironically, we then get frustrated when our students become point-mongers and grade-grubbers rather than valuing their educational experience for how it develops them as human beings.

In AP English Literature this semester, I have been emphasizing process over product.  (Alabama football has been a daily topic of conversation in my home since August, so Coach Saban's coaching philosophy has obviously influenced me!)  I know that a grading system is necessary and that test scores aren't going to decrease in significance anytime soon, but can't we work toward success in those areas without making the class entirely consumed with them?

S. walked into class on Friday and said to me with sincerity, "I just have to say thank you for yesterday's class (when we had discussed some "great questions" raised in literature).  We never get the chance to contemplate some of these big ideas and it was nice to have some time to think and discuss issues that are at the center of our human lives."  I love teenagers, but more often than not, their worlds revolve around themselves.  I tell them this is natural and that they will grow out of it (I hope!).  So, when a student takes the time to thank a teacher for a day's activities which  revolved around thinking really hard about unanswerable questions, I had to take notice.  What made the impact?  Discussion is not new in my classroom. Sharing ideas in small group also occurs frequently.  So what was it that made a student actually demonstrate gratitude for time spent in my class?  And she was not the only enthusiastic one.  As I had traveled the room the day before and eavesdropped, I heard discussion after discussion that was questioning, insightful and, best of all, personally meaningful for the students.

I believe what has made the difference is changing our focus from the product to the process.  I am asking them to care about how they are learning and how they are thinking, asking them to be the one who takes an idea to the next level, to be the one who raises the inspiring question or makes the most insightful connection.  The focus has shifted from students completing assignment after assignment for me to students thinking for themselves. Students are not being assigned a particular set of chapters for reading; instead, they are reading at their own pace.  Students are in discussion groups with other students who are at the same place in the novel that they are -- no penalty or punishment for not being as far along as someone else.  Students are being asked to respond, react, reflect to their reading in authentic ways that make sense for them as individuals -- through charts or art or poetry.  I can see that when the students believe that what they think has value, they are willing to share, and they are willing to consider the ways that others think.  This becomes an environment rich for teaching -- minds open, hearts willing, souls stirred, curiosity peaked. 


I know not every day will be one of intellectual euphoria.  I know that there are still students in the class who are just putting in their time.  My optimism does not blind me to the realities of teaching 17-year-olds in a public school. However, I still believe a shift, however small, has occurred.  In the small world of C28, we are drifting away from amassing points in a gradebook; the points we are concerned with are the ones made in the texts we read, the discussions we have and the writings we craft. And through this focus on process, the product will be what we desire -- perhaps a fine grade in the course or a perceptive, engaging essay -- or, even better, a fine, perceptive, engaging person.